


Tease

by HolmesianDeduction



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark Days Universe, Drug Use, Hidden Camera, M/M, Smoking, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 21:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolmesianDeduction/pseuds/HolmesianDeduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock discovers yet another one of Mycroft's hidden cameras and decides to punish his brother for the invasion of privacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tease

**Author's Note:**

  * For [findingsherlock (FindingSherlock)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingSherlock/gifts).



              It was coming up on seventy-two hours and Sherlock still hadn’t moved except perhaps to blink once or twice as he stared directly into the hidden camera lens.  Idly, Mycroft imagined that if he were to zoom in, he would probably be able to watch the fine, barely-there follicles of his brother’s facial hair inch out from their burrows in his skin in a barely-visible dusting of stubble.  He had not attempted to do this just yet, of course, but the thought was there.  The important thing to be garnered from all of this, from the statue act, Mycroft observed quietly to himself, was that Sherlock _knew_  he was being watched, and was making that perfectly clear to the man on the other side of the camera lens.

             The slow quirk at the corner of the younger man’s mouth confirmed his suspicions.   _Watch me will you?_  the faint curve of his brother’s lips seemed to say.   _Just what are you expecting to see?_

             A tiny shiver jolted through the elder Holmes’ veins, and shifting in his chair, he leaned forward, waiting to see exactly what it was that the younger man had planned.  No doubt Sherlock would want to punish him in some way for spying on him, he knew that, but even this knowledge did not stifle the soft gasp that ripped itself from his lungs when his brother nonchalantly began rolling up his shirtsleeve.

             It was in almost exaggerated slow motion that he watched  as Sherlock produced a polished hardwood case - a case that had once belonged to their father’s pipe collection, but which, Mycroft knew, was now home to his younger brother’s drug paraphernalia - and retrieved from it a small bottle, a rather sharp, sterile needle, and a length of rubber tubing, no doubt stolen from the last hospital he had been checked into.

             As Sherlock tied himself off, Mycroft very nearly felt his own veins pop as the pale lines on the undersides of the other man’s arms became ever-so-slightly more defined.  There was, he reflected through the roaring of blood in his ears, something graceful about the way his brother handled the needle, the precision with which he drew up the _exact_  dosage of his cocaine-and-water solution, the practised ease that accompanied his sliding the needle into his vein at that very specific angle, drawing a little bit of blood up into the syringe and untying the tourniquet right before pressing the plunger down in a single slow, unyielding push.

             His lips pressed thin against one another, he saw rather than heard the oddly - for Sherlock at least - satisfied sigh escape from the detective’s mouth as the needle was slipped out of his arm.  Almost immediately afterwards, Sherlock made the jump from pleasure to clinical again, carefully replacing everything in its box, replacing the box in its place, and disposing of the needle and syringe in a small bio-hazard container (also likely nicked during his last hospital stay).

             A smirk flickering over his lips, Sherlock glanced back up at the camera nonchalantly, placing an unlit cigarette between his lips and lighting it before taking a long, self-satisfied drag.

              _The Cigarette of Victory_.  Mycroft shook his head, but continued to watch as his brother chain smoked his way through an entire pack before moving out of sight of the camera briefly.  It was during this brief interlude that his mobile phone rang once, and retrieving it, the elder Holmes was greeted with a simple text.

              _Enjoy the show_  
             Mycroft?  I trust  
             I’ve answered a  
             few questions.  
             SH.

             Licking his lips, Mycroft considered his answer carefully, but was distracted by movement on the monitor screen.  Glancing up, he was not entirely surprised by the close-up image of his brother’s pale iris and the web of tiny, delicate veins mapping their way across the sclera. He held his breath, half-knowing what was to come next.

              _And there it is_.  The manic grin that under most circumstances would be terrifying, and the a soft click as the camera was disabled.  If he was lucky, he would get it back.

             He doubted he would be lucky this time.


End file.
